March 5, 2009

I dream of Owl Meat

Owl Meat's Funtastic Thursday guest posts are getting darker and less game-filled, but also more thought-provoking. However, Owlie, sometimes a carrot is just a carrot. EL

Today's topic is food nightmares.

I don't have many nightmares about food, but considering my diet, a little late-night duck vindaloo or chicken-fried weasel might give Morpheus some extra traction. Here are some random thoughts on the subject: ...

In dreams I often go grocery shopping, usually at the Rotunda Giant. (Wow, talk about a subconscious diet buster – the Rotunda Giant.) In real life I haven't shopped there since college. I go down the aisles and pick out perfectly mundane things that I need.

I did have a dream a few weeks ago where the Rotunda Giant was part of a German POW camp and I was the leader of group of POWs who were escaping, but first I needed to fill a suitcase full of cheese.

I dream-shop at other supermarkets, too; and there always seems to be a cheese issue. J'aime le fromage. Ich liebe Käse. Amo el queso.

I have invented recipes in dreams. Good ones like my flying squirrel caramel swirl.

Can everybody taste in dreams? I can.

Any interesting food dreams out there?

Here's something from New Scientist to chew on:

"Chocolate may aggravate a sleep disorder in which people unknowingly act out violent nightmares, thrashing about and shouting as they dream. About 1 in 200 people suffers from the disorder, called rapid eye movement sleep behaviour disorder, or RBD. Most sufferers are men. In a report due to appear in Sleep Medicine, Vorona suggests that the caffeine in chocolate helps to block the natural process called atonia that paralyses us during dreams. This leaves the sleeper more free to move."

Yes! Research is cool. In addition to the phrase, "Why you gotta be like that, baby?" I can add, "It was the chocolate, baby. I thought you were a succubus sent by Morpheus to lead us out of the Matrix."

The girl's eyes rolling back into her head is a little disturbing, in a kind of 1970s Exorcist way.

Can't say I've had any food dreams. But when I was taking Chantix to quit smoking (it worked!), that stuff produced some very weird dreams.

One did have food in it. I was trying to get around a very tall fence or wall, and at every corner, there were many, would be a food item. The one that sticks the most in memory was a little hamburger patty with a slice of cheese on it, and the patty, though cooked, was blood red.

Yeah, what happened to the crazy happy banana thing with the hoola hoop?

I never dream about food. It's always about someone stealing my car again while I'm sleeping. Not that those dreams aren't crazy. For a while, I was keeping my bedroom window cracked open because my car has a very unique starting sound and I thought I might wake up if I heard it in my sleep. After I did that, in my dream, four men in green jumpsuits picked up my car and silently carried it away down the street.

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine
Alive as you or me
Tearing through these quarters
In the utmost misery
With a blanket underneath his arm
And a coat of solid gold
Searching for the very souls
Whom already have been sold.

"Arise, arise", he cried so loud
With a voice without restraint
"Come out ye gifted kings and queens
And hear my sad complaint
No martyr is among ye now
Whom you can call your own
So go on your way accordingly
But know you're not alone".

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine
Alive with fiery breath
And I dreamed I was amongst the ones
That put him out to death
Oh, I awoke in anger
So alone and terrified
I put my fingers against the glass
And bowed my head and cried.

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About this blog

Richard Gorelick was appointed The Baltimore Sun's restaurant critic in September 2010. Before joining the paper staff fulltime, he contributed freelance criticism and features articles about food to area and regional publications. Along the way, he dispatched for short-distance trucking companies, shilled for cultural non-profits, and assisted in cognitive neurology research – never the subject, always the control.

He takes restaurants seriously but not himself, and his favorite restaurant is the one you love, too.